HEART. Oh! Anything, everything, a leg or two, or an arm; nay, I would be divorced from my virility to be divorced from my wife. SCENE XIV. [_To them_] SHARPER. VAIN. Faith, that’s a sure way: but here’s one can sell you freedom better cheap. SHARP. Vainlove, I have been a kind of a godfather to you yonder. I have promised and vowed some things in your name which I think you are bound to perform. VAIN. No signing to a blank, friend. SHARP. No, I’ll deal fairly with you. ’Tis a full and free discharge to Sir Joseph Wittal and Captain Bluffe; for all injuries whatsoever, done unto you by them, until the present date hereof. How say you? VAIN. Agreed. SHARP. Then, let me beg these ladies to wear their masks, a moment. Come in, gentlemen and ladies. HEART. What the devil’s all this to me? VAIN. Patience. SCENE the Last [_To them_] SIR JOSEPH, BLUFFE, SYLVIA, LUCY, SETTER. BLUFF. All injuries whatsoever, Mr. Sharper. SIR JO. Ay, ay, whatsoever, Captain, stick to that; whatsoever. SHARP. ’Tis done, these gentlemen are witnesses to the general release. VAIN. Ay, ay, to this instant moment. I have passed an act of oblivion. BLUFF. ’Tis very generous, sir, since I needs must own— SIR JO. No, no, Captain, you need not own, heh, heh, heh. ’Tis I must own— BLUFF.—That you are over-reached too, ha, ha, ha, only a little art military used—only undermined, or so, as shall appear by the fair Araminta, my wife’s permission. Oh, the devil, cheated at last! [LUCY _unmasks_.] SIR JO. Only a little art-military trick, captain, only countermined, or so. Mr. Vainlove, I suppose you know whom I have got—now, but all’s forgiven. VAIN. I know whom you have not got; pray ladies convince him. [ARAM. _and_ BELIN. _unmask_.] SIR JO. Ah! oh Lord, my heart aches. Ah! Setter, a rogue of all sides. SHARP. Sir Joseph, you had better have pre-engaged this gentleman’s pardon: for though Vainlove be so generous to forgive the loss of his mistress, I know not how Heartwell may take the loss of his wife. [SYLVIA _unmasks_.] HEART. My wife! By this light ’tis she, the very cockatrice. O Sharper! Let me embrace thee. But art thou sure she is really married to him? SET. Really and lawfully married, I am witness. SHARP. Bellmour will unriddle to you. [HEARTWELL _goes to_ BELLMOUR.] SIR JO. Pray, madam, who are you? For I find you and I are like to be better acquainted. SYLV. The worst of me is, that I am your wife— SHARP. Come, Sir Joseph, your fortune is not so bad as you fear. A fine lady, and a lady of very good quality. SIR JO. Thanks to my knighthood, she’s a lady— VAIN. That deserves a fool with a better title. Pray use her as my relation, or you shall hear on’t. BLUFF. What, are you a woman of quality too, spouse?